


gluttony

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Babysitters, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babysitting, Background Relationships, Begging, Bottom Will Graham, Cock Cages, Creampie, Crying, Dildos, Discipline, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, Exhibitionism, First Time, Ice Play, Light Masochism, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Prostate Massage, Punishment, Rulers, Scent Kink, Teenage Will Graham, Temperature Play, Top Hannibal Lecter, Underage Drug Use, Viagra, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-13 03:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: "Doctor Lecter?" Will murmurs, already half-asleep. Hannibal meets his eyes, and smiles at how relaxed and happy Will looks. He gives a hum of acknowledgement. "Did anyone do this for you, when you were my age?"





	1. Chapter 1

"Will," Hannibal calls, closing his book. Will looks up from where he was sitting, by the fire, sprawled out with his notebook open, working on his homework. Will looks up at him, the light from the fire making his cheeks pink and his eyes dark. "Bedtime, darling."

Will nods, and closes his book, tucking it neatly beneath his textbook and setting it on one of the side tables. He rises, rolling his shoulders, and moves past Hannibal, into the dining room to finish with his chores. Hannibal watches him go, admiring the way Will, now sixteen and just beginning to become a man, has begun to fill out his clothes. He joined the wrestling team at school, and took up track, and so he has started to build up muscle in his shoulders and forearms and thighs, the rest of him still slim and somewhat gangly from his recent growth spurt.

Hannibal smiles, and rises, shutting off the gas so the fire dies out, and takes Will's books into the dining room. He listens, for a moment, to the sound of Will cleaning the last of the dishes, and goes to his medical bag. Inside is a single white bottle of pills, and he takes one out, closing the bottle and placing it back in his bag.

He finds Will at the sink, rinsing the last wine glass and setting it in the strainer. Will turns, watching him as Hannibal fills a glass with water, and sets it with the little blue pill on the kitchen counter. Will eyes him, for a moment, and then takes the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation, and refills his glass.

Hannibal smiles, and leads the way up to Will's bedroom. Will follows silently, and Hannibal opens the door for him and watches him undress. He waits until Will has his shirt off, before he rises, and goes to his own room to change into sleep clothes. He brushes his teeth, combs the product out of his hair, and retrieves the little set of keys and the bottle of lubricant he keeps in the top drawer, before returning to Will.

Will emerges from the bathroom as he approaches, his hair damp from running wet hands through it, the scent of his toothpaste on his breath as he exhales heavily. He's naked, now – he sleeps naked at Hannibal's request – and Hannibal admires the soft gleam of the cage around his cock. When flaccid, Will's cock doesn't even touch the edges of it, sits limp and pink within the strong steel. Hannibal has had to start taking it off during the day, so Will can wrestle, but it's the weekend, and Will knows the rules.

Will flushes under his gaze, the pill Hannibal gave him thinning his blood, and his cock twitches, and begins to fill, though it cannot harden fully. He shifts his weight, lets out a soft whine, and Hannibal arches a brow.

Will's eyes are on the keys in his hand. "Do I get to take it off today?" he asks, wide-eyed and hopeful.

Hannibal smiles at him, and with a tilt of his head, commands Will back into his bedroom. He shuts the door behind them and turns off the light, so only Will's bedside lamp illuminates the space, painting the room in soft, flattering yellow light.

Hannibal eyes the room, pleased to note that it is still in pristine condition, from when he commanded Will clean it earlier that week. Even his clothes from the day are neatly tucked into the hamper by his closet, and there's not a single book, knickknack, or drawer out of place.

"You've been very good," he says mildly, watching Will's eyes brighten with happiness, as he squirms and settles in place on his mattress, the sheets pulled back. "Did you finish your homework?"

"I just have one math problem left," Will says. "Ten minutes, tops."

Hannibal nods – a small concession, and Will has been very well-behaved this week. Will's father is a sailor, and leaves for months at a time, and when Hannibal was first hired as a live-in caretaker, Will was much wilder. He would stay out all night, get into fights at school, and hung out with the wrong crowd. A 'problem child', some might call him, but Hannibal could see Will for what he was – bored, directionless, seeking desperately for someone, or something, to give himself over to.

It started with discipline. A ruler, to be precise, and Will bent over the dining room table while Hannibal stripped him and hit him, making him count until Will couldn't speak without sobbing. Then, once Will was calmer, and knew that his actions would have consequences, Hannibal introduced praise – fond words and kind smiles when Will came home on time. Encouragement and affection when Will socialized more at school, and made more respectable friends.

When Will hit puberty, that's when this began. Young boys have a terrible reputation and penchant for thinking with their cocks, and Hannibal would not tolerate Will's behavior if he ended up being one of those brash bullies who treated his fellows poorly, or got into the wrong kind of trouble with a girl. Will is too young to be a father, and so the cage keeps him in check.

His punishments, and his rewards, are Hannibal's to deal out as he sees fit.

Hannibal sits on the edge of Will's bed, and Will spreads his legs, baring his balls, his pale inner thighs, and the bottom of the cage. Hannibal sets the keys and lubricant down on the bedside table, and turns, kneeling between Will's thighs so that he can examine the cage, make sure that it is not too tight, and checking for any evidence that Will somehow managed to take it off.

He finds nothing of the sort, and smiles warmly. He reaches for the bottle of lubricant and presses it into Will's shaking hands.

"Would you like me to watch again?" he asks.

Will's lashes flutter, he bites his lower lip, and nods. Hannibal smiles, and sits back, watching as Will opens the bottle, an explosion of the somewhat plasticky scent that makes Hannibal's nostrils flare, and wets his fingers before he sets it back down.

Will hitches up one leg, digging his heel into the edge of the mattress, and uses the fingers of his clean hand to spread himself open, baring his hole. He closes his eyes, tips his head back, sighing heavily as he drags his wet fingers across his rim, and Hannibal presses his lips together, wetting them, as Will pushes in with two fingers straight away. His rim is turning darker, flushing and sensitive, and he whines quietly as he sinks in to the second knuckle.

He's much more confident and familiar with the sensation than he was when Hannibal first had him do this. The first time, Hannibal stayed and watched, to make sure he was obeyed, and Will had been so embarrassed and nervous that it had taken him almost an hour of fingering himself to come. Now, though, Will is brazen, takes it easily, and seems to prefer it when Hannibal is watching him.

Will spreads his fingers, allowing Hannibal a glimpse of the soft muscle inside him, before he adds a third, and sinks as deep as he can, his hand broad and flat, the heel of one hand grinding into his perineum as he begins to work his fingers in and out of himself.

Will gasps, arching up, and Hannibal smiles, knowing Will has found his prostate. Hannibal had told him it was there, and would feel wonderful when touched, but left Will to find it on his own. 'How can you possibly be a good lover when you do not know as much about your own body as you can?' Hannibal had told him.

Will moans, weakly, his other hand dragging with nails up his chest, to one of his dark nipples. He pinches it savagely, his eyes flaring open at the sensation, the movement of his fingers squelching and loud as he twists his hand, trying to get deeper. He spreads his other thigh out wider, whimpering, his belly tensed up and his cock hard enough now to press against the edges of the cage.

"Oh, _God_ ," Will breathes, free hand running up to his hair now, tugging, head tilted back to expose his neck. Hannibal swallows back a growl, his eyes raking over Will, gluttonous and slow. Will is turning into a beautiful young man, has been for a while, before his very eyes, and Hannibal knows, when he's all grown up, he'll be absolutely devastating.

Will whines again, and works in the tip of his pinky, spreading himself wide. He shoves his fingers in, less precise now, needing force, and gasps as he finds his prostate again. His hips twitch and flex, and the scent of him growing damp with sweat fills the room and makes Hannibal's mouth water.

He watches, his fingers curling in his lap. He has never touched Will, not like this, and he will resist doing so now. Not until Will asks for him – which he may, one day, or he may not. Hannibal is simply pleased to be allowed to bear witness, delights when Will writhes and moans and submits him, no matter the reason.

Will drags his nails over his own neck, raising red lines, his breathing turning shallow and soft as he starts to shake. His thighs pull together, heels shifting up the bed, he grunts and twitches – he's close. Hannibal can smell how close he is.

So he smiles, and says, "That's enough Will."

Will moans loudly, tight with strain, and he pulls his fingers out, panting and digging his nails into his thigh, his rim clenching and spasming around nothing, so close and denied his orgasm. Hannibal leans forward, and fishes two ice cubes from the glass on Will's bedside table. The first, he feeds to Will, who crunches it savagely between his teeth, and bares them at Hannibal.

The second, he gently eases into the thin sheath of Will's cage, around the base to keep it in place. Will gasps, eyes wide, entire body lurching at the sudden cold on such sensitive flesh. His cock twitches, but doesn't go down at all, and he palms roughly at his balls and tugs on them, like that alone is enough to finish him. His hand flies to his cock, gripping the sheath as the ice melts through his fingers, dripping along the metal and Will's soft, red flesh.

Hannibal smiles at him, when Will merely stares. He takes the water glass in hand, idly swirling the remaining ice around it, and says, "You may continue."

Will swallows, his eyes warily on the glass, but he pushes his fingers back into himself with no hesitation, free hand still roughly palming the cage to try and rid himself of the cold. The melting ice makes the metal shine, makes Will's cock darken further, and matches the lovely sheen of sweat on him rather nicely.

Hannibal waits until he begins to tremble again, breath hitching, his lashes fluttering and eyes rolling back so only the whites remain visible. He licks his lips, parts them in a gasp, his pretty jaw raised and tilted back, strong neck moving as he swallows and pants. Hannibal can see his fingers curling inside himself, relentlessly stroking his prostate, tugging on his rim as Hannibal has learned Will likes.

Hannibal knows Will expects to be told to stop again, and so he doesn't – just watches, and smiles, as Will finally gives himself over to it, hips rolling to get his fingers deeper, other hand working desperately between the bars of the cage to try and get some warmth and stimulation. His cockhead is pink and weeping, the scent of his precum sharp. Hannibal breathes it in, savoring it like fine wine.

Will's breaths have turned weaker, punched-out little gasps and whines as he works himself closer and closer to his orgasm. Hannibal watches his stomach tense and sink in, exposing his ribs. Watches his thighs tremble and tighten. Watches his fingers abruptly slow, easing himself closer, closer -.

"Stop, Will," he commands.

Will's eyes flare open, and he obeys on auto-pilot, but moans loud and desperate, his rim clenching up tightly. There are tears in his eyes, now – Hannibal is sure, with the pill he gave Will, Will is slowly losing his mind.

Will groans, head falling heavy on the pillow. "Please," he says, his hands fluttering now, unable to stop touching himself. A prostate orgasm is much warmer, and broader, than that through external stimulation alone – the soft lick of a tongue instead of the dig of teeth. "Please, Doctor Lecter, I want to come."

"I know you do, darling," Hannibal purrs, and gives Will's thigh a cursory pat. "And I fully intend to let you, don't you worry."

Will whines. "Please," he says again, and reaches out.

Hannibal stands, before Will can touch him. "I have something for you," he murmurs. Will blinks at him, brow furrowing. "I intended to give it to you as a birthday present, but I think we can make use of it now."

Will's frown deepens. "Right now?" he asks, weakly.

Hannibal smiles at him, and his eyes move to the cage keys. "You may remove your cage," he says. "But do not touch yourself. I'll return shortly."

Will nods, and Hannibal sets the glass of water down, and leaves the room. He goes to his bedroom, and pulls the long wrapped box he kept in his second drawer. It had arrived earlier that day, while Will was in school, and Hannibal hums in delight at the idea of giving it to Will, now.

He returns, and finds Will setting the cage to one side, hissing through his teeth as his sensitive cock hardens fully, leaking thick and clear onto his belly. He settles on his back, his hands in the bedsheets, and watches Hannibal as Hannibal approaches.

"Sit up," he coaxes, and helps Will rise, and hands him the box. He takes his seat.

Will blinks down at it, and unwraps it cleanly, balling up the paper, and lifts the lid. Inside is a glass dildo, shaped vaguely like a spaceship, with a slim point at one end, a bulbous girth in the center, and an abrupt dip where one can grab. The other end is smaller, but shaped like a ball – less concession made for the entry, but a solid little bulb to grind against once inside.

Will's eyes lift, and then drop again, and he takes it out. "It's heavy," he murmurs, like he's surprised. He weighs it in his hand, and meets Hannibal's eyes again. Hannibal smiles, and nods. "Can I use it now?"

"Of course, Will," Hannibal purrs. "You may use it whenever you like."

Will's eyes darken with anticipation, and he lays back down, breath hitching as he wipes his lube-slick fingers over the sharper tip. As Hannibal anticipated – Will wants to experiment with the bigger end first. The lubricant smears on the clear glass surface, and looks like come.

Will shivers, and parts his thighs. He touches the tip of it to his entrance, and hisses, as it's undoubtedly cold. His other hand wraps around his cock, and Hannibal tuts.

"See how it feels, first," he says sternly, and Will's hand moves away. Will pushes the dildo in, and it sinks in easily, as Hannibal knew it would. Will gasps, eyes opening wide, staring upwards. It's not as wide as four fingers, but he grips the ball-end, twists and moves it in a slow circle, and breathes out heavily, his eyes closing again.

"Fuck," he whispers. "That feels _so_ good."

Hannibal smiles. "I'm glad," he purrs in reply. "You may work yourself to orgasm using this. I won't stop you, this time."

Will breathes out, weak with relief, and digs the nails of his free hand into his stomach, beneath the leaking tip of his cock so precum smears over his knuckles. He lifts his hand, licks them clean, and drives the dildo in as deep as possible, angling it up. He pulls on it, until the widest part stretches his rim, and lets his eager body swallow it back up.

"Oh my God," he breathes, his cock twitching every time the tip of the dildo finds his prostate. He shoves it into him more forcefully, quicker, his thighs starting to shake. "Is this – is this what it feels like to get fucked?"

"Colder, I imagine," Hannibal replies. "But there's something to be said for depth."

"I like it," Will gasps, grunting as he works the dildo into himself, the sound of it stretching him and pushed back into his body loud and undeniably wet. He touches his cock, but doesn't stroke, and it looks so hard and neglected. Oh, what Hannibal would give, for Will to ask him to taste. His fingers curl and his eyes fall to the spread of Will's red rim around the glass, the tremble of his thighs and clench of his stomach. His hips roll, seeking more, and he moans loudly. "Oh, God, _fuck_ , Doctor Lecter, I -."

"It's alright, Will," Hannibal says, smiling. "Don't fight it."

Will whimpers, and his back bends, spine arching sharply as he comes. His cock pulses, shooting thick and hot over his belly and chest, up to the bottom of his exposed jaw. There's a lot, for Hannibal hasn't let him come with his cock for almost two weeks, and he rolls his hips viciously down onto the dildo, panting as he works the tip over his prostate, making the pleasure linger and burst over him in waves.

He collapses with another sated groan, shivering and twitching as he comes down from the high. Hannibal smiles, and stands, carefully taking the box and setting it beside Will's cage, and goes to him. He touches Will's cheek, making him open his eyes, and leans down to kiss his forehead.

"Be sure to keep it clean," he murmurs, and Will nods, still gasping heavily. He might never catch his breath. He looks beautiful – ruined and red, shaking and sodden with sweat. Hannibal breathes him in, ravenous for a taste, but denies himself. "Happy early birthday, Will."

Will smiles, in that wide, lax way he does whenever Hannibal lets him come, and pulls the dildo out with a small wince. He sets it in the box to clean later, and falls back against his bed, running his relatively clean hand through his sweaty hair, breathing out harshly.

Hannibal wipes his hands idly on a corner of the sheets, and then grabs the box of tissues by Will's bed, wiping him clean and discarding them in the bin on the other side of the little table. He takes the sheets, then, and covers Will with them, tucking him in.

Will lets his hands drop, over the top of them, and looks up at Hannibal as he pulls out Will's top drawer, and puts the bottle of lubricant and the box with the dildo inside. Given the medicine Hannibal made sure he took, he wouldn't be surprised if Will woke during the night and used it again. He throws away the wrapping paper, and pockets the cage keys.

"Doctor Lecter?" Will murmurs, already half-asleep. Hannibal meets his eyes, and smiles at how relaxed and happy Will looks. He gives a hum of acknowledgement. "Did anyone do this for you, when you were my age?"

"No," Hannibal replies. Adds, teasingly, "Perhaps I would have been much better behaved, if they did."

Will laughs, the sound high with disbelief. He rolls onto his side and sighs, tucking one arm under his pillow.

"Thank you," he says.

Hannibal smiles, and tucks a single curl behind Will's ear. "It's my pleasure, darling," he purrs, and Will's lips twitch in another lax, happy smile. "After breakfast tomorrow, you will finish your homework, and we will put the cage back on."

Will nods, for this is routine now. He yawns, rubbing a hand over his mouth to try and stifle it, and closes his eyes. "Good night."

"Good night, Will," Hannibal murmurs, and takes Will's cage and the bottle of lubricant in hand, and turns off the light. He leaves Will's room, closing the door quietly, and returns to his own bedroom. Once inside, he gets into bed and turns off the lights, and pushes his sleep pants down so that his hard cock is bare.

He takes Will's cage, which still bears sticky, drying strings of Will's precum and the lubricant. He presses the cage to his nose, breathing in deeply, and wraps his hand around his cock, stroking tight and quick as he breathes in Will's scent. Sweat, precum, it all _stinks_ of Will, and he's ravenous for it, filling his lungs with Will's scent, the backs of his eyes playing a perfect recall of Will, writhing and moaning desperately. The way Will breathes his name. The way he responds so nicely to any stimulation. Hannibal imagines him with rings of bruises from Hannibal's teeth, claw marks in his thighs, his ass, his hips.

He comes when he imagines piercing Will, splitting him apart and spilling deep into him. Imagines it leaking back out and staining Will's cage as Will moans and ruts against him, clenching up as Hannibal works against his prostate. He is so sweet, and young, and Hannibal knows he would be tight and so, so hot around Hannibal's cock – eager for it, both because he has nothing to compare it to, and because Hannibal knows, from watching him, exactly what Will likes.

He sighs, and smears his dirty hand around the sheath of the cage, allowing himself that small indulgence, for he will need to clean it before he puts it back on Will. He rises, and showers, and returns to bed to get a good night's sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Will is uncharacteristically jittery this evening. He will not meet Hannibal's eyes, his responses are only to direct questions, and unusually gruff and snappy. It is behavior Hannibal does not tolerate, especially from Will, and his lips purse into a sour expression as Will, once again, brushes him off, head fixed downward onto the sprawling mess of his chemistry notes.

Hannibal leaves the dining room, and retrieves the ruler from his desk in the study. He hasn't had to use it on Will for some time, and mourns the fact that he must, now, but he made it perfectly clear when Will was a boy that he would not allow Will to behave unpleasantly to anyone, least of all him, and if Will needs a reminder, he can certainly give it.

He returns, and finds Will just as he left him.

"Will," he says, and something in his tone must trigger Will's attention, for he looks up, blinking. His eyes drop to the ruler in Hannibal's hands, and he swallows. "Get undressed."

Will winces, jaw clenching, and shoves himself to his feet, his chair creating an unpleasant scraping sound on the floor. He pulls his t-shirt off his back, over his head, and makes to drop it, before hesitating and folding it neatly, placing it on the table beside his notes.

Hannibal smiles, and steps closer.

Will is swearing sweatpants, and pushes those off easily, baring the rest of his soft, pale flesh, his caged cock. He folds them and sets them on top of his shirt, and clenches his fists, glaring in the vicinity of Hannibal's shoes.

Hannibal tilts his head, and snaps the ruler against his palm. Will flinches again, shoulders rolling up, and he sighs. "You have one chance to explain your sullen attitude to me," he says. Will's nostrils flare, and he looks away. Hannibal sighs. "Very well, then. Over the table."

Will blinks down at his notes, frowning. "Right here?"

"Yes, Will," Hannibal murmurs with a smile. "Right there."

Will swallows again, his pale and unfortunately unmarked throat flexing as he does, before he leans forward, and braces his elbows on the table. His notes and textbook crinkle and shift beneath his weight, and he spreads his legs, remembering, of course, the proper stance for his punishments.

Hannibal tuts, and taps Will's thigh with the ruler. "Closer, darling. On the table properly."

Will sighs, but obeys, until his caged cock sits on the edge of the table as well, brushing against his notes. Hannibal smiles, and resists the urge to put a hand in his hair or give him an affectionate pat. He steps up to Will's side, grips the ruler tightly, and swings. The flat of it hits both of Will's cheeks with a solid _slap_ , and Will flinches, bowing his head so his forehead touches the table, and groans in pain.

"One," he growls.

Hannibal hits him again, and in the echo of the strike comes a 'Two'. Then again, and again, making sure Will counts before he swings once more. If this was for pleasure, if Will was his partner and this is something they did for enjoyment, Hannibal would vary the force of his hits, and their placement, to create anticipation and excitement – but that's not what this is. So he swings, peppering Will's ass with neat rows of blushing marks. Until he hits twenty. Then further, down his thighs. He steps up behind Will and hits the innards of them with the edge of the ruler, and Will sobs, knees trembling, shifting his weight to try and compensate for his urge to run.

He hits again, and Will cries out, body lurching against the table. "Th-thirty-six," he gasps. Hannibal breathes in deeply, watches Will's shoulders heave with quiet sobs. He can smell Will's tears, but that isn't all he smells.

He growls, and fists a hand in Will's hair, hauling him upright. His eyes rake Will up and down – his flushed cheeks, the sweat dampening his temples and chest, his eyes spilling tears. Down, to the tension in Will's belly. Further, to the shine of his cage and the undeniable swell of his cock pressing against it.

To the damning puddle of precum, staining the paper on the table.

His head tilts. "Are you enjoying this?" he asks, curious. Delighted.

Will turns his head, bows it, nuzzles wretched and sweet against his wrist. "I'm sick," he says, sobbing the words. Hannibal blinks at him, and lets him go, and Will collapses where he stands like a puppet with cut strings – not to the floor, not to his knees, but he appears suddenly so small, so weak and young.

Will growls at him, shakes his head, and bends over the table again. "Come on," he demands. "Keep going. I deserve it."

Hannibal presses his lips together, and sets the ruler down. Will looks at it, and whines softly, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"Will," he says. "Look at me."

Will shakes his head stubbornly, and Hannibal growls, fitting a hand to the back of Will's neck and hauling him upright again. He pushes Will back into his seat and Will hisses, wincing in pain and shifting his weight to try and get comfortable. He can't, of course – Hannibal is nothing if not thorough.

Hannibal hands him his clothes, and as Will puts them back on, he brings his chair around and places it in front of Will, and sits, folding one leg over the other, and places his folded hands in his lap. Will's exhale is heavy, his hands shaking as he runs them through his hair, trying to calm it.

Hannibal considers him, and says, slowly; "You did deserve that." Will presses his lips together, and nods, and his expression is one of deep shame. "But I sense the reason you believe you deserve punishment is not the same as mine. Therefore, it's useless."

"Useless?" Will echoes, and he sounds so sweet, so young. Hannibal's fingers curl.

He nods. "If you don't know why you're being punished, at best it's just abusing a beaten dog – at worst, confirming whatever you think you are being punished for, which might be just as damaging. So, why do _you_ think I'm punishing you?"

Will's eyes darken, and he shudders, sobbing into his hands. "You know."

"No, I don't know, that's why I'm asking."

"No, I mean – I mean you _know_ ," Will says, and meets his eyes. "You know I'm…. I'm _sick_."

Hannibal considers him, tilts his head. He leans forward and uncrosses his legs, puts both feet on the floor, his elbows on his knees. He reaches out and catches one of Will's trembling hands, finds his fingertips wet with his tears, and curls it between both his own.

"Tell me, darling," he says, coaxing. "What's the matter?"

Will swallows, a caged animal quality around the set of his shoulders, the press of his thighs. He lifts to his toes, as if wanting to bolt, and drops his gaze, swallowing harshly. His fingers flex between Hannibal's palms and he kneads his other hand restlessly against his thigh.

"You've always taken really good care of me," he breathes, as sacred as a confession. He closes his eyes, ducks his head, turns it away. "And I just…"

Hannibal hums in encouragement.

"I kissed a girl today," Will says, blurting it out so it's almost one word. "Alana." Hannibal remembers her – she's one of the better friends Will has made at school; a sweet and bright young girl, wonderfully talented and socially aware, and often plays sous-chef for Hannibal when Will has her over for dinner. "Well, she kissed me. Or maybe I kissed her, I don't know, it all happened so fast."

"You're a wonderful young man, Will," Hannibal says, not understanding why Will would be so shaken by such an event. At his age, it's perfectly normal. Will lets out a weak, angry sound from behind clenched teeth. "What happened?"

"For a second, it was nice. Really nice. She's very kissable." Hannibal smiles. "And I liked it. But then I didn't like it – it felt wrong. I freaked out and bolted and I know she's been calling and texting me all night and asking what was wrong. I can't think about it without freaking out."

Hannibal cocks his head to one side. "Why?"

Will lifts his head, blinks at him. Frowns. "You're not mad?"

"Should I be?" Hannibal replies.

"I…. I thought…" Will's cheeks darken, and he bites his lower lip, and looks away again. In answer, Hannibal pets gently over his wrist, finds his pulse racing. He dips his thumb into Will's palm, gently applying pressure at his wrist, seeking to ease the tight clench of his fingers. Will goes slack, unbidden, and he swallows.

"Why do you put me in a cage?" he asks, harshly. "And make me jerk off, and give me pills?"

Hannibal smiles. "I restrain you so that, when and if you do decide to become sexually active with another person, you don't make a terrible mistake that could cost you your future," he replies. Will's eyes snap to him, dark and wide. "I taught you how to achieve orgasm with it on, because I remember what it's like to be your age, and think it would be very cruel to deny you any kind of satisfaction. The pills, well, at first it was to make it easier for you. I suppose it just became part of the routine."

"I _like_ the routine," Will says. "I like it when -. When you watch me. I even like knowing I can't get off unless you say it's okay." He swallows again, and looks down. "But I…. I want more. I need more."

Hannibal sighs inwardly, and nods. "Will, like I said, if you feel drawn to another person and wish to be intimate with them -."

"No." Will looks up, and leans forward, cupping Hannibal's hand with his other one. He is earnest, and sweet, and squeezes Hannibal's hands gently. "Not another person. I want more from _you_."

Hannibal tries very, very hard not to let his expression change, but there is a deep ache in his stomach that flares, abruptly, awakened like a slumbering beast.

Will's cheeks darken further, and his mouth twists into an ugly, mean-looking grimace. "That's why I thought you were hitting me. Because you knew. It's sick. I shouldn't… _want_ you like that. You're my -. You take _care_ of me, and you're older, and you're a guy. You don't even want me that way."

"Who says I don't?" Hannibal says before he can stop himself.

Will stalls, stutters in place, and looks at him with wide eyes. "I…. What?"

"Will," Hannibal says quietly, sighing, and smiles down at their hands. "I wanted to leave the decision up to you. You're almost an adult in the eyes of the law, and certainly old enough to make your own decisions: I would never force you, but if you consented to it, I would eagerly do whatever you asked of me."

Will shivers, and a fresh wave of tears well up, a single one falling. "Oh, my sweet boy," Hannibal sighs, and reaches forward, brushing him thumb across it and wiping it away. "I'm so sorry, darling. Had I known you were suffering such doubt, I would have addressed it sooner."

Will trembles, and turns his head, nuzzling Hannibal's wrist again. "I don't want anyone else," he breathes. "I want you. I want…"

"Yes?" Hannibal prompts. "What do you want?"

"I want you to kiss me," Will says. "I want you to touch me. I want you… _inside_ me."

Hannibal's fingers curl, and he lets out a quiet, wanting growl.

"I don't want toys, I barely want my own hand anymore. I just want you, all the time. I can't – I can't think about anything else." He whispers it to Hannibal's skin, clenches his eyes tightly shut, trembling with it.

He pulls his fingers back, and cups Will's chin, making him lift his eyes.

Will clutches at him, around each wrist, and breathes; "Please, Hannibal." And oh, Hannibal could live a thousand years just on the nourishment of hearing Will say his name like that. It makes the knot of desire in his chest coil and slither downwards, compels him to stand, and tug Will to his feet. Will gasps, his eyes widening, rocking to his toes in anticipation. He still has some growing to do, and he's several inches shorter, and must tilt his head up so their eyes can meet. "Please."

Hannibal smiles, and cups his nape, watches as Will's lashes flutter and dip low, his head tilts in askance, lips parting.

"Will, darling," Hannibal purrs, and leans in. "You only needed to ask."

Their lips meet softly, at first, Will gasping and clutching at Hannibal's jacket as Hannibal tilts his head, and deepens the kiss. He cups Will's jaw, coaxing his lips apart, and licks between them, tasting Will's dinner lingering on his tongue. Will shivers, moaning sweet and high into it, presses close as much as he can, and wraps his arms around Hannibal's shoulders, fingers threading through his hair and gripping tight.

Will is clearly inexperienced with this, and Hannibal swallows down the flicker of outrage that he did not turn out to be Will's first kiss. But that's alright – they have plenty of time, and all the opportunity in the world for all of Will's other firsts. Hannibal can teach him how to kiss, and how to use his mouth in every other way.

He parts the kiss and begins another, alight with the way Will moans into his mouth, clinging to him desperately. He feels the cage pressing hard and warm against his thigh and Will whines, rutting on instinct, needy and aching. Oh, poor sweet thing – he must feel so empty.

Hannibal pulls back, and pets through Will's wild hair. "Let me take you to bed, darling."

Will shakes his head, drags his nails down Hannibal's shoulders, and turns them. "No," he says, breathlessly. "Here. _Please_. I can't wait a second longer."

Hannibal's brows rise, but there's something very satisfying about the way Will presses himself to the table, ignoring the pain from his injured flesh, and pulls Hannibal against him, seeking another kiss. Hannibal growls, clenches his fingers in Will's hair and flattens his other hand on Will's hip, finding the sweet warmth between Will's parted thighs, grinding against his cage.

"The keys are upstairs," he says.

"I don't care," Will replies. "I don't need it off to come." He smiles, wide enough to dimple his cheeks, and Hannibal is momentarily breathless at the sight of him. Will is so beautiful – and to think he wants Hannibal in the same way Hannibal has desired him for so long is momentous.

"You made sure of that."

Hannibal smiles. "I suppose I did," he purrs, and leans down to give Will another deep, long kiss, that makes him whimper and arch against Hannibal, legs spreading wider. Hannibal pulls back, and brushes his thumb down Will's jaw. "Get undressed, darling."

Will nods, and pulls his shirt off, and lifts his hips to allow Hannibal to pull his sweatpants down, revealing his thighs, darkening with bruises, his caged, pink cock, his knees, his ankles, and finally they are off. Unlike before, they are cast aside, unimportant. Will's notes wrinkle beneath his grip as he swallows, eyes dark and raking Hannibal up and down.

Hannibal smiles. "Would you like to watch me?" he murmurs.

Will nods, gaze bright. Hannibal shrugs his jacket off, and hangs it on the back of Will's chair. Next, his tie, pulling on the knot and unravelling it neatly, letting it drape over his jacket. Will reaches for him, and starts to unbuckle his belt as Hannibal unbuttons his vest, and those they let fall to the floor at Hannibal's feet.

Will's hands flatten over his chest, his breathing soft and shaky. He slides them down, unbuttoning from the bottom as Hannibal goes from the top, and they meet in the middle, and Will pushes his shirt off, his lips parting around a soundless gasp, eyes raking Hannibal up and down. His fingers trail through Hannibal's chest hair, and he swallows loudly.

"Do you shave, or wax, or anything?" he murmurs, lifting his eyes.

Hannibal smiles, and shakes his head.

"Good," Will purrs, and leans in, nuzzling lightly over Hannibal's heart. He breathes in deeply, quivering with desire. Will's arousal is well-known to Hannibal now, and he is drenched with it, and his scent sharpens and thickens when Hannibal wraps his fingers in Will's hair and gives a gentle tug, lifts him for a kiss. "I like it."

"I'm glad," Hannibal replies, breathless now, as Will drops his hands and palms at his clothed cock. He pulls back, but is quick to pet Will and let out a soothing sound when Will's eyes flash, and he tenses. "I need to get lubricant, darling. I could hurt you if I took you dry."

Will swallows, and lowers his gaze. "I can take it," he says, and Hannibal grins, delighted by Will's stubbornness. "I could – I could use my mouth, or something."

Hannibal laughs, and shakes his head. "No, Will," he says, and gently pets down Will's flushed, smooth chest. "I will teach you how to use your mouth properly another time. I will return shortly – use your fingers and saliva to stretch yourself open."

Will's brow creases, a small pout turning his mouth down at the corners, and Hannibal kisses it away.

"I'll be only a moment," he promises. "Get comfortable."

Will nods, swallowing again, and Hannibal kisses him once more, unable to deny himself the pleasure of Will's sweet mouth, before he leaves, hurrying up to Will's bedroom, where he left the lubricant. He smiles when he sees it, lying next to the dildo Hannibal bought him – pristine, recently cleaned, but the entire room and the drawer stinks of Will's scent, of his sex.

He grabs the bottle and returns, finds Will with his belly pressed to the table, one elbow bracing him up, cage rutting against his notes as he reaches back, fingering himself open. Their eyes meet, and Will moans wantonly, arching onto his toes and presenting as best he can.

Hannibal goes to him, growling at the sight of Will's red and purple-marked ass, his spread thighs. He sets the bottle down and flattens his hands, spreading Will out so that he can see Will. With this angle he can't get as deep, but he has three fingers inside him, fiercely fucking himself to the second knuckle.

Hannibal smiles, and pulls them out, and Will gasps and collapses onto the table, arching back.

"Please," he whispers.

Hannibal unzips and unbuttons his suit pants, pushes them down to his thighs, and then his underwear, letting his cock free. He wets his fingers with the lubricant and spreads it on his shaft, over the leaking head, growling low in pleasure. Finally, _finally,_ he's going to get everything he wanted – Will, spread out and shaking for him. He'll know what Will feels like on the inside, will get to know how his sweet boy tosses and moans for him, writhing beneath Hannibal as Hannibal penetrates him.

He spreads the excess over Will's dark pink rim, and settles a hand on the small of his back, where there are two divots, perfectly spaced for his thumb and little finger to spread wide. Will has grown a lot in their time together, but he is still much smaller than Hannibal is. It'll be a tight fit.

"Are you ready, darling?" he purrs, and nudges his cockhead against Will's soft, slick hole.

Will nods frantically, reaching back and digging his nails into his injured flesh to part himself further. He hisses at the pain, but rocks back, and Hannibal sighs, plants his hand, keeping Will down, and pushes into him.

Oh, _oh_. _God_. Will is sinfully tight, so warm it feels like there's a fever in him. Hannibal snarls, baring his teeth, and holds Will's skinny hips tight enough to bruise, keeping him still as Will trembles, all of him breaking out into a fine flush, a glistening layer of sweat that Hannibal cannot help lean down and lick. He parts his lips around Will's nape, loving that Will is short enough that he can, and holds still, easing Will back onto his cock – slowly, but firmly, so Will has no choice but to give, to yield, to submit.

Will does, with such a sweet, strangled sound. He bows his head, shows more of his neck, shoves his hands against the table and sends his notes scattering across it. Hannibal closes his eyes, lost in the sinful, perfect tightness of Will, as Will's muscles grip and spasm around him, as desperate as Will himself is.

He cannot help forcing the final inch, fucking in so suddenly that Will gasps, and moans loudly, collapsing onto the table.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," he breathes, every inch of him shaking, sweating, so utterly sweet. "Fuck, Hannibal, _God_ , please – please move. Fuck me."

Hannibal growls, and moves his hands from Will's hips to his wrists, gripping him tightly, nails along his pulse. He pulls Will in, covers him completely, and rolls his hips, helping Will get used to the stretch and fullness inside him. Will whimpers, turns his head, teeth gritted and lashes low, and kisses wetly over Hannibal's knuckles.

He rises, locking his elbows, and groans at the sight of his cock buried deep in Will's ass. He pulls back, relishing the way Will whines and clings to him, only to suddenly open as he pushes back in. He slides his hands up Will's arms, to his shoulders, and holds him down as he builds up a rhythm. It's a good thing the table is heavy, and strong, or the force he puts behind his thrusts might make it collapse.

Will is a mess beneath him, writhing and moaning loudly, brazen and desperate. He bites down on his own knuckles to try and stifle the sounds, but he can't, and lets them go as Hannibal presses deep and rolls his hips, seeking -.

 _There_ it is. Will clenches up around him so tightly Hannibal cannot move, and his breath hitches, his knees buckling and thighs pulled together in that way he does when he comes. He makes a single, sweet, high-pitched sound, and Hannibal snarls in pleasure, and as soon as Will loosens, he moves again.

"Don't stop," Will begs. As if Hannibal had any intention of doing so. " _God_ , fuck, yes, yes – please. Harder."

Hannibal growls, tipping his head back, and pushes at Will's thighs with his own, forcing him harder against the table, forcing him to let his legs bend so Hannibal can fuck him brutally against it. Will is sweating in earnest now, and he leans down to lick over Will's tensed shoulder, edges his teeth. He will not leave marks – he can't, with Will still wrestling and wearing too little to cover it – but oh, when summer comes…

He knows it's almost unbearable for a man to receive stimulation after a prostate orgasm, but Will begged him not to stop, and Hannibal quite likes the scent of him, sharp with pain and sweet with desire. He growls, and flattens a hand on the back of Will's neck, watches as his upper body breaks out in goose bumps when he squeezes.

He stiffens, rumbling in pleasure, and pulls out, and hauls Will upright before Will can protest. Will is limp in his arms, eyes glazed, and he shivers when Hannibal turns him and presses him on his back on the table, pushes his legs apart and hooks them over his shoulders, and presses back inside him. Will gasps, eyes flashing and widening, and arches sharply as he does it. Hannibal holds his wrists, keeping him still, pulling him into the thrusts.

His eyes are wet, overstimulated and relieved, and Hannibal lets one hand go so he can cup Will's nape, bend him upwards and kiss his bruised mouth. Will groans, clinging to him, and his legs fall to wrap around Hannibal's waist, tight and strong, urging him on. His free hand slides between his legs, cupping his balls and massaging them gently as Hannibal continues to fuck relentlessly against his prostate.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna -." He can't finish the sentence. Hannibal watches, as he has always watched, as Will's eyes close, his face goes slack, his shoulders roll in and his thighs tighten. He arches again, shows Hannibal the flushed, tempting line of his throat, and Hannibal growls and kisses over his thundering pulse as Will clenches around him again, muscles too sore to get as tight as they did the first time, but still so, so good.

Will collapses with a sated, weak groan, and Hannibal growls, and fits his hand around Will's neck. Will gasps, but leans into it, holding his wrist tightly. The heat is building in him, he's on fire at the sight and feel of Will, finally, around him, just as beautiful as he ever is. Perhaps more so, with his eyes so bright and glazed with pleasure they can't quite focus, with tears on his cheeks, with his chest and neck so red.

Will swallows, and Hannibal drags his nails down Will's chest, light enough that he knows the lines will fade by Monday.

"Come inside me," he breathes. "Please."

Hannibal shows his teeth in his smile, gathers Will's thighs and lifts his legs onto his shoulders again. He grips Will's hips, fucks in once, once more. Goes still, and refuses to break Will's gaze as he releases, flooding this sweet, beautiful boy that Hannibal is fortunate enough to call his own.

Will sighs, smiling, and his head drops to the table with a dull thud. Hannibal waits until he's utterly spent, and eases himself out of Will gently, parting his thighs so he can admire the single bead of come that spills from him. He thumbs at it, and lifts it to the light. Will's lips part, eyes dark, and Hannibal holds it out in offering.

Will sits up, and licks his thumb clean, and the heat in Hannibal flares anew.

Will swallows, and wipes his hand over his mouth. He reaches, and Hannibal goes to him, hands flattened on Will's trembling thighs as he kisses Will, deeply, sharing the taste and the deep mark of satisfaction in Will's scent.

Will swallows again, when they part, and says weakly; "Please tell me this wasn't a one-time thing."

Hannibal shakes his head. "No, Will. It wasn't."

"Good." Will smiles, and lowers his lashes, then lifts his gaze again, asking silently for another kiss, which Hannibal is more than eager to grant him. Will shivers, and Hannibal pulls away, correcting his underwear and suit pants, and shrugging his shirt back on.

"Get dressed," he says. "I'll fetch you some water."

Will nods, gingerly climbing down from the table, and looks mournfully at the stained pages of his notes. Hannibal laughs, and goes to the kitchen, filling a glass for himself and Will. When he returns, he finds Will has his sweatpants back on, a dark stain already forming between his legs. He's gathered his notes back into some form of a pile, but the one he stained is out, to be rewritten.

There is, at Hannibal's place setting, a single blue pill.

He raises his brows, and Will grins at him, impish and sweet. "You remember what it was like when you were sixteen," is all he offers in explanation.

Hannibal smiles. "Have I created a monster?" he teases, and hands Will his water.

Will accepts it, and takes a drink with a hum. His eyes drop to the pill again, and then rise to Hannibal, and he lifts his chin in challenge.

Hannibal's smile widens, and he shivers under the heat of Will's gaze, as he takes the pill, and swallows it down. He gestures for Will to sit, and Will does, pulling his chair back in and grabbing his pencil.

"I'll be in the study," Hannibal says, and brushes a hand through Will's hair, kissing his forehead. "When you've finished your homework, come join me there."

Will's eyes flash, and darken. He nods. "Can I get the keys?" he asks.

Hannibal smiles. "Of course, darling," he murmurs, and kisses Will again. "You can't get _me_ pregnant, after all."

Will gasps, quivering with anticipation at the implication.

"I'll be waiting," Hannibal tells him. "Now be good and finish your homework."

Will's cheeks turn pink, and he smiles, off-kilter and wide. "Okay, Doctor Lecter." And oh, the way he purrs _that_ is just as delightful as Hannibal's name. "I won't keep you waiting long."

Hannibal smiles, and gathers his water class, and retires to the study. He feels Will's eyes burning into his back until the door closes behind him, and settles at the desk with a heavy, sated sigh. There is, tucked away, a sketchbook filled with Will's likeness, and he entertains himself, as he waits for Will, with drawing from memory much more intimate designs.


End file.
